


The Arkanis Chainsaw Massacre

by thatoboist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, Blood and Gore, Chainsaw Killer, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Hux is an ass, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Making Out, Mild Blood, Reysma, Serial Killer, Stormpilot, and i mean gay, not a lot of blood but, sort of crack, this is more kylux than storm pilot and reysma obvi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7294027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoboist/pseuds/thatoboist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The small town of Arkanis is quiet. One day, six people leading six completely different lives get an invitation to a dinner party. The house has secrets and a past that nobody in the town can remember. It also has somebody running in the shadows, holding a chainsaw, and waiting..waiting...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Quiet Town and A Quiet House

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't like even mild mentions of horror or blood, don't read this. maybe some of my fluffier fics will be for you! this is my first go at writing horror, so feedback in my ask box (tumblr at the end) is MUCH appreciated!!

The small town of Arkanis was relatively quiet. There wasn’t too much ever going on, and the people liked it that way. It was better that way. Some don’t like small towns, but it was good for the people living in it. Then, six people received an invitation in the mail. The envelope and paper were thick, the kind only the wealthy could afford. The invitation was embossed with gold print, stating a time and a date and a place, plus attire requirements. The six recipients couldn’t be any different, but they also couldn’t be any more alike.

Rey worked at a mechanic’s shop. She returned home one day to find the letter outside her apartment door, on the worn doormat. She hadn’t seen anything this nice be this close to her since that Mercedes-Benz came into the shop. She couldn’t believe the letter was addressed to her-a mechanic, sweaty and greasy.

Poe read over the letter while his corgi, BeeBee, licked his hand not holding the thick paper. He was an ex-pilot from the Air Force, honorably discharged because of an injury. He had been extremely reluctant to leave, but he kept in touch with his friends. This invitation might be to some reunion, he figured.

Phasma picked her mail up on the way home from the gym. Immediately, the letter caught her eye, sticking out from the exercise magazines and health newsletters. She opened it right there, and quickly read it. After reading it, she mentally checked to make sure she wasn’t working-and luckily, she wasn’t.

Kylo was sure this was some government event for his mother, a senator. He decided he’d go anyways; these days he just sulked around his apartment and went to work at a flower shop, then a night shift at a record store. He was off on the day of the party. Hopefully that old black suit still fit.

Hux shrugged at the letter. He was used to these things; they were too fancy and reeked of entitlement. He set the letter down on his table and checked his schedule for the night of the party, and, shockingly, he was free. He wondered if he’d see other lawyers there, he thought as he stroked his cat Millicent.

Finn was confused: why would he, a biology teacher, receive an extremely fancy invitation? And to some pompous party, no doubt. Maybe, he thought, it was an awards ceremony. But it was summer; school didn’t start for two more months. Finn hoped he had a nice suit stowed away somewhere.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the day of the party, a black Mercedes-Benz convertible rolled up to the house. Brendol Hux checked his watch-he was ten minutes early; punctual as always. Observing the house, he noticed it looked dull, and the garden needed tending to. In fact, the entire place needed attention. This certainly wasn’t a house where lawyers, businessmen, and people of importance met and shared cocktails and deals.

It was, however, a grand place. In its prime, it was probably the best house in the area. Quite possibly, it was once a place where socialites and the elite gathered for elegant galas and dinner parties. Those times were long since past; now the house sat waiting, curtains tightly drawn in the windows, the doors locked, the paint peeling off to reveal brown and aged wood. Inside, the walls creaked when the wind blew, the floor and stairs revealed with groans anyone who was trying to sneak around. Cobwebs decorated corners and furniture; the massive fireplace abandoned and unused. Everything great about this house had gone away, but now it was waiting for six people to step inside.

But nobody could see this from the long driveway and out the windshield of their beat-up, junker of a car. Rey was sure the address was right. And on her way here, she’d seen another car-a sleek Mercedes. It looked like the same model of the Mercedes that came into the shop where she worked once. She suddenly felt out of place. Was this a party for socialites and rich people? Frowning, she smoothed out her dress. Hopefully she was dressed up enough for the occasion.

Before she stepped out of her car, another rolled up next to hers on the driver’s side. The man that stepped out had dark skin, and he was wearing a deep purple suit. Rey thought it was an odd color for a suit, but it did make quite the statement. His eyes were confused his nervous, even though his expression looked blank. Rey decided she should talk to him.

“Hey, she said, getting out of her car. “I’m Rey.”

“Oh. Hi. Finn,” he said nervously. Finn watched her close the car door, then lock it. He waved the invitation he was holding. “You here for-?”

“Yeah,” she responded.

“Cool,” Finn said, nodding his head and looking away. “Cool.”

Before the silence could creep up on them any further, a car pulled up, tires screeching to a halt. It was a sports car, from the nineties most likely, and the man who stepped out of it was just as athletic-looking as the car. He flashed a white smile at Rey and Finn, then fixed his suit jacket and ran a hand through his thick, curly brown hair. When Rey and Finn didn’t say anything, he leaned against his car.

“What? Cat got your tongues?” When neither responded, he threw his head back and groaned in exasperation. “Guys, come on. Help me out here! Talk!”

“I’m Rey.”

“I’m Finn.”

“There ya go! I’m Poe Dameron.” He opened his mouth to talk again, but a black Mercedes pulled into the drive. Poe looked the ginger man exiting it up and down. “Hey there. I’m Poe Dameron. Who’re you?”

“Brendol Hux,” the ginger said hurriedly. “Is the door not open? Is nobody home?”

Rey shrugged. “I dunno. We haven’t—“

“It’s a _dinner party_. Have you seriously not gone up to the door yet?”

Finn got a little flustered, sharing Rey’s embarrassment. “Look, Brendol—“

“ _Hux_.”

“—Hux. We were waiting for everyone else,” Finn said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, how kind,” Hux snarled.

Then, a silver jeep pulled up, and out stepped the tallest woman any of them had ever seen. Her dress’s cut showed off her strong arms and long legs. She looked incredibly sleek and regal in the black dress, and Rey blushed a little. The newcomer strode over to the group, smiling.

“Phasma,” she said, introducing herself. Everyone gave out their names, then she checked her phone. “Is this everyone?”

Right as she said that, a car peeled around the corner, screeching up the driveway. The man who exited that vehicle was tall, and his dark hair was pulled back into a bun. Poe smirked when he saw Hux looking at him. But, he couldn’t criticize the feisty red head; he had his eyes on that Finn guy.

“Am I late?” the man asked, buttoning up his suit jacket. “Name’s Kylo, by the way.”

“No, it’s exactly six,” Hux said, then he introduced himself. Everyone followed suit. He then addressed the group. “Should we go up there?”

“It’d be rude not to, I suppose,” Rey said with a shrug.

Everyone followed Rey up to the doorstep, and when she knocked, the double doors opened. A nervous laughter broke out among the group, and they stepped inside. Nobody moved from where they stood collectively gathered. Some instinct told them not to stray too far from each other.

Kylo was the first one to speak. “This place is a dump! Who would throw a party here?”

“Someone like you,” Hux said, glaring at Kylo. “These might be..decorations.” Hux gestured to the cobwebs, a frown on his face.

“It’s June,” Poe said with a laugh.

“Well, something isn’t right here, and we’re all thinking it.” Finn crossed his arms.

Rey frowned. Secretly, she’d been looking forward to the promise of fancy food. “So, do we leave?”

“Let’s stay. I’m sure there’s an explanation for this,” Phasma said.

They collectively stepped forward. After a little talk, they decided to find the living room. It wasn’t hard to locate. It was the only room with a massive brick fireplace and elegant sofas. The paint on the walls was peeling, and the color had faded from all the furniture. The wood coffee tables and side tables were sun-bleached, and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Everything in the room screamed of wealth, and it was hard to believe someone had let this go.

“What do we do now?” Poe asked.

Hux went to light a cigarette, but it was slapped out of his hand by Kylo. “Are you crazy? Do you want to burn us and this house down?” Kylo said, scowling at Hux, who returned the look.

“It wouldn’t make a difference to this dump, would it?” Hux snapped. Kylo didn’t say anything when Hux calmly lit a second cigarette. He took a drag and blew the smoke in Kylo’s face.

Poe cleared his throat. “Uhm, well…Does anyone know if this is a prank? Somebody messing with us?”

“Why would they choose us? We have nothing in common,” Rey said.

Finn shrugged. “Maybe we do. Or maybe they just scanned through the phone book.” He shuffled his feet. “I’m a biology teacher. I’m in my twenties. I got this invitation, just like all of you did. I mean, that’s something, right? We all got this letter. And we’re all here.”

“Well, if we’re doing introductions, then…I’m a personal trainer. I work out for a living.” Phasma looked at Finn and nodded. “You’ve got a point, Finn. We all got that letter in the mail.”

“I work at a car scrapyard, and I’m a mechanic.” She pointed at Hux. “Your car…I think it came into the shop once.”

“Please. I would never take my car to your shop,” Hux scoffed.

“I swear you did. I even remember your hair. You said it was an emergency—“

“—Fine, it was my car! I took my car to your junk shop! What, did you just want to hear me say it?” Hux snarled.

"Whoa, Hux. I’m the one who you’re supposed to yell at and fight with, not her,” Kylo laughed. Hux was glaring at him. “Aw, come on. Turn that frown upside down,” Kylo teased.

Hux strode over to the corner, taking one last drag on his cigarette before stomping it out on the floor. “I need a drink,” he muttered.

“Are you guys done? Because we really need to figure this out,” Poe said. He was tapping his foot impatiently. “Or can we just leave and forget this… _event_.”

Immediately everyone rushed to the front door. Kylo was tugging on the knobs, but the doors wouldn’t open. Hux scoffed and rolled his eyes. Finn looked nervously at Poe. Rey and Phasma gave each other side expressions. Kylo finally gave up, defeated.

“They won’t budge,” he panted. “I think…I think they’re locked.”

Hux chuckled. “Nononono _no_. We _cannot_ be _locked_ in here.”

“Well, if you want to drop your ego and try to open the doors, be my guest,” Kylo spat. The ginger turned bright red and didn’t say another word.

Poe suddenly perked up, scrunching his face. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

“Hear—Hear what, Poe?” Finn asked, edging closer to Poe.

“That noise.” Poe was looking around.

“Probably the old house creaking,” Phasma said with a shrug.

Poe shook his head and said firmly, “No. Something’s here.”

Kylo scoffed. “What? A scary ghost?”

“No. It--It sounded like an engine.”

Hux’s eyes widened. “My car!” He started banging on the door, too worried and frantic to realize there were windows he could look out of.

“Not a car engine. It sounded like a lawn mower.” Poe rolled his eyes at Hux.

“Why would there be a lawn mower in here?” Phasma shook her head. “This is ridiculous, Poe. I’m sure you’re just hearing the old house.”

“Whatever. All I know is, I want to forget it.” Poe shook his head, then looked up and smiled. “Now, who wants to scout this place out with me?”

Finn eagerly said, “Sure!”

Phasma shrugged one muscular shoulder. “I guess I could.”

Rey nodded.

“Alright. Finn and I will head upstairs, Phasma and Rey, you guys can look around down here, Hux and Kylo…” Poe frowned. “Go in the basement. And try not to kill each other.”


	2. Doors and Books Are Better Left Closed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn and Poe head upstairs to explore. It seems to them that this house may hold more secrets than they thought..
> 
> _The spirits of the dead, who stood  
>  In life before thee, are again  
> In death around thee.. ___

The stairs creaked under their weight. The railing didn’t seem like it was reliable either, and so they had to hope they wouldn’t fall through the boards. Finn was expressing his worry about falling to his death, but Poe waved it off.

“Nah, buddy. You’ll be fine. These stairs have probably held up for years. They’re not gonna break now,” Poe said with a dashing smile. To break the silence, he asked, “So…you said you’re a teacher?”

“Yeah. Biology.”

“Oh, neat. I gave my teachers hell in school,” Poe laughed.

“I try to be…cool, I guess. I let them use their phones when I say it’s okay, I let them chew gum, do partner work...” Finn sighed. “It’s a rough job.”

“Be glad you didn’t ever have me as a student.”

“I’m sure one day I’ll get a kid that’s a piece of work,” Finn chuckled.

They reached the landing, and they looked around. The hallway stretched out in front of them, a tattered carpet running along the length. The wood floor was rotting in some spots, and all the color had gone from the carpet. As far as they could see, there were doors lining the walls, all closed. Finn noticed this, and he narrowed his eyes. _Funny; they’re all the same_ , he thought. Poe was looking at him, waiting.

He felt his face heat up. Poe _did_ look really nice in that suit. No, he had to stay focused. Finn fumbled for his phone, swiped up, and turned on the flashlight. Poe did the same, and the white beams of light lit the path ahead.

Like the living room, even the hallway told of wealth long gone. As they slowly walked, they saw portraits of women in tight corsets with wide skirts, and men with stern faces wearing top hats. Once in a while they had to dodge a hole in the floor, or an overturned hall table. For something as insignificant as a hallway, the past owners decorated it like it was the center of attention.

Finn held his arm out across Poe. “Stop.”

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

Finn slowly pointed at the door to their left. The door was ajar, making it different from the rest. It was the sixth door in, and it was peeling like the rest, and in-between two oil lamps on the wall like the rest. But unlike the other doors, it was open, waiting for them. Welcoming them.

Poe took one quick look, shrugged one shoulder, and said, “C’mon, buddy. Let’s check it out.”

“Are you crazy?” Finn hissed.

“Uh…I don’t think so? Look, you pointed it out to me, and if I didn’t think it was safe, I wouldn’t ask you to come with,” Poe said. He took Finn’s hand and tugged him to the door. “Come on.”

Finn sighed and let Poe tug him into the room. They used their phone’s flashlights to make sure the floor was safe. Finn was double-checking it also as an extra precaution. Poe was trying his best to reassure him, but even Poe’s soft hand in his wasn’t helping. The only way to ease his worry was to leave the room and never return.

The room was regal. They expected it to be so, because if the hallway was well decorated, the rooms should be also. The bed was against a wall on the right, with four raised posts, and a ripped canopy hanging down. The sheets were torn and faded, the wooden headboard scratched. A dresser made of white, sun-bleached wood faced the bed, some golden handles ripped off, some grimy and dirty. Layers of dust covered it, and the mirror above the dresser was spotted with grime from years without cleaning. It had an elegant gold frame, vines and flowers decorating it and sprouting around the edges. On the wall facing them, a window was covered by torn velvet curtains, and the dark wallpaper was peeling in some spots. On the side tables by the bed, oil lamps lay overturned and broke; a bookshelf on the left of the window held books long since unopened.

The bookshelf intrigued Finn, whereas Poe was drawn to the dresser. Finn smiled when he wiped the years of dust off the spines of the books. He immediately recognized classics: poems from Edgar Allan Poe and Emily Dickinson, titles by Mark Twain like _Huckleberry Finn_ , Charles Dickens’ _A Tale of Two Cities_ , and even _The Iliad_ by Homer. Finn crouched down, reading through every single book title on all six shelves. They were tightly packed, and some of the text was scratched off or hard to read, or even in another language. He saw an old book on human anatomy, and that interested him.

It was the only book he touched. Opening it, he squinted at tiny text next to incredibly detailed pictures of the human body. He saw cut diagrams of the heart and brain. He laughed to himself at how little they knew back then, but was humbled when he remembered how much there is still left to learn. Finn quickly looked at gory drawings of intestines and bulging stomachs, his face contorted in disgust when he read some of the text. How little they knew and understood shocked him; he hadn’t realized it until now. He turned the page, eager to move on.

A note fell out, yellowed from age, between the pages of a diagram of an eye and the mouth. Finn unfolded it carefully, treating it with care. The handwriting was lovely; the cursive was the best he’d ever seen. It took him a few moments to read it, since the letters flowed together. Eventually, he managed to figure out what the note read:

_More work must be done. Not nearly as accurate as made out to be._

Was this person a scientist? They had to be, Finn thought. His thinking was interrupted by a sudden sound of tinkling. His head turned to Po, who’d opened a tiny box. He smiled nervously at Finn, who smiled and shook his head. Finn returned his attention to the bookshelf, chuckling at Poe.

Poe had been expecting to find a woman’s things in the dresser, but it was a complete mix. In the bottom drawer were the staples a man might have: long johns and tall socks. The second up, there were pairs of folded trousers, and one lady’s corset. He lifted the corset up, shining his flashlight on it.

It was just plain black, ribbon and all. Nothing remotely special about it, Poe decided. The owner of this room probably had a mistress. Maybe it was the owner’s wife. Or, maybe, he dressed in drag. Poe shook his head and put the corset back, closing the drawer. His imagination was running wild, apparently.

Another drawer up, and it was just plain white shirts. All were long-sleeved and button-ups; Poe saw they buttoned up to the top of the collar. They were all neatly folded and covered in a fine layer of dust. Only one, however, was red-a deep red. It was probably for special occasions, like dinner parties and parties. The two drawers after that were more trousers and shirts that hadn’t seen the sun. Poe saw a few pairs of ladies’ stockings, and he blushed. The top drawer held boxes, and he was grateful to hopefully not have any more run-ins with undergarments for women.

One tiny square box held tiny trinkets, like seashells and pebbles. Poe even saw a little geode and a pearl. A beat-up box held photos. He skimmed through them, forgetting that they were able to take pictures, if only portraits at a photo shop. One picture was of two men staring blankly ahead, another of an old woman holding a parasol, open and above her head. In another, a young woman held a man’s hand, one of the men from the first picture. Then, there was a picture of a tiny baby in what looked like a baptism outfit, or what would be considered one today. There were many more, all of people, but the last one caught his eye: the two men, a tree stump in front of them, a hatchet lodged in it, and each held a rifle and a deer skin.

Poe shivered. In a third box was jewelry-pearl earrings and necklaces, simple chains with a cross, a few rings. In a fourth box, there were buttons, swatches of fabric, a few needles, and some thread. A tiny thimble sat forgotten at the bottom of the box. Organized, thought Poe. In a fifth, there were some rocks. Some were smooth, some showcased sedimentary layers, and some were bland in color. In a final box were letters, yellowed and aged, folded and covered in some dust.

He didn’t want to touch them, afraid they’d turn to dust in his hands. He pushed the drawer closed, then saw the top of the dresser was clear, save for a tiny gold box and a cracked blue vase tipped over onto its side, and a picture of a young man and woman. The tiny gold box stood on four little legs, and when Poe opened it, a red velvet interior was revealed, and tinny music started to play. He closed it when Finn looked at him with those cute eyes. Poe’s finger absently traced patterns in the dust on the dresser while he stared at the picture of the couple.

The man was dressed in shiny shoes and neat trousers. His jacket was buttoned over his shirt, the collar tight at his neck. Poe chuckled at the jacket’s coattail, and he smiled at the top hat the man wore. The man was good-looking and handsome, the lady beautiful and youthful. Her dress was full, the corset she wore underneath giving her a tiny waist. The sleeves were long and showed her delicate shoulders, the scooping neckline revealing collarbones and a chest. He could very faintly see embroidery, and he saw her hair was done up. They held hands, both staring blankly ahead into the camera.

“Poe,” Finn’s voice cut through the silence. “I found this really cool book.”

Poe walked over to his companion, read the title, and pushed the book away. “Ah, not my type. Finn, buddy, you should check out this picture.” He put his hand on Finn’s elbow and guided him to the dresser, pointing at the picture.

Finn frowned. “It’s kinda creepy, don’t you think?”

“It’s cool,” Poe said with a smile.

Finn squinted, leaning towards the picture. “They just look…dead. They don’t look happy or like they like each other at all.”

“Maybe it was an arranged marriage!” Poe turned to Finn, excitedly pointing a finger. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Maybe, _maybe_ they didn’t like each other, and it was a set-up, and they were just acting so they could get rich from an inheritance!”

“Poe, you’re ridiculous,” Finn laughed.

He slung an arm around Finn, turning them to face the door. “Yup, I know.” He sighed wistfully. “Shall we continue?”

“Sure.”

They left the room, and opened the door to the next one down. This one had walls that were bookshelves, and a desk that was right by the window. The desk chair was overturned. An oil lamp sat on the desk, and two ripped armchairs were in the middle-right of the room, a small round table between them.

Both headed to the desk. Immediately, Finn picked up the book. The title was in Latin, but he knew what it said. Flipping through the pages, he knew it was; a diary. The pages were in English, so the title was probably to deter people. Finn paled as he paged through it, eyes widening.

“What, buddy?” What is it?” Poe asked, concerned.

“It…It…” Finn gulped, looking up at Poe. “It’s a diary.”

“About what?”

“The human body.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you enjoy this trash? follow my tumblr @more-trash-by-trash for more quality garbage! also, this is my first time writing horror, so don't be stranger to my ask box to give me critique or pointers!


	3. Lost In Dust & Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Phasma are left to explore the main level of the house. Some things are best left untouched, and some things are waiting to be found.

Rey and Phasma watched Poe and Finn start to walk up the long staircase. They chuckled to themselves as they watched Kylo and Hux sulk to the assumed basement door. They got lucky with their guess, and went down the stairs. Finally, Rey and Phasma were alone. _No more testosterone, thank God,_ Phasma thought.

"Should we go in there?" Rey pointed at the room behind Phasma.

"Sure."

They walked in, their phone's flashlights warning them of possible hazards. Immediately, they saw a table and chairs, all regal, all wooden. A cabinet full of chia sat against a wall, some of it broken, and a tiny entrance in the middle of the wall led to somewhere else, maybe the kitchen. Curtains were drawn over the window to the right. Oil lamps were on either side of both entrances, and a lopsided chandelier hung over the center of a splintered table.

"The dining room," Rey whispered, affirming this to herself.

Phasma ran her hand over the top of a chair, feeling the carvings beneath her fingers. The work that must have gone into this. The sweat. The possible tears and drops of blood. Touching it made her realize that they were so lucky to have things already made for them so they didn't have to wait. 

Rey had walked over to the china cabinet. "Phasma, look at this."

The tall blonde woman joined Rey, looking at the fragile china. Some pieces were broken entirely, but the faded blue patterns were still visible. Rey put a hand on the glass of the cabinet. a small teacup had caught her eye; it was just like the others, white with blue patterns of delicate flowers and curling ivy vines. But it was different. It held hidden stories and secrets. It stood with a tea set and sat on a matching saucer, but it made her want to touch it. She felt its uniqueness, but also its strangeness.

Phasma tapped her companion's shoulder. "Hey, let's go on." She didn't like how glassed-over Rey's eyes looked.

They walked through a small butler's closet and into a kitchen. The appliances were rusted, and showed the age of the house. Instead of a refrigerator, there was an icebox with a rusted handle and sunken-in sides. Rey ran her hands over the dusty countertop, feeling the notches and curves from meals made long ago.A farmer's sink was under a square window, and cracked plant plots were on the sill, dirt dried up. Some cabinets had doors ripped off the hinges, while some were still intact, their white paint peeling off. An old stove sat unused with a rusted kettle over a burner, waiting food someone to make coffee or tea again. 

Phasma peered in the sink, and saw it was stained. She didn't touch it, but she bent down to get a closer look. The stains were dark. They were most likely years of collected grime and dust. She shrugged and stood at her full height again.

She heard a crash and whipped her head around. She saw Rey, her hand in midair. On the ground were the remains of a plate, shattered at the young woman's feet. Her eyes were wide, showing fear that her body denied. 

"I-I'm sorry," she said. Phasma walked over to her, and she averted her eyes from the other woman. "I didn't mean to.."

"How about we move on?" Phasma said, gently leading Rey out and into the next room.

They stood next to each other in what appeared to be a lounge. Rey took a step closer to Phasma, and Phasma smiled down at Rey. She hadn't thought she liked shy brunettes with three buns on their head, wearing a bright yellow dress, but here was Rey. Phasma licked her lips and stopped admiring how cute Rey was. Instead, she looked ahead to assess the area in front of them.

For one, the furniture was torn. A chaise lounge's cushions were shredded, the pink fabric faded from age. Next to it, a candle chandelier stood, cobwebs decorating it. Facing the women was a fireplace, not as large as the one in the living room, but it boasted good times now lost in dust. Hung over the mantle were two swords, dust and covered in tartar. On either side of the fireplace was a painting. 

One was of a man holding a sword. He wore a deep blue uniform that indicated a high rank, possibly general, and it was decorated with medals and badges. Barely visible on the uniform were red accents on the cuffs and collars and down his pants, gold buttons down the front of his jacket. Behind him was a majestic white horse and the ruins of a village. Lying around him were bodies; under his right foot was a head. All were bloody, and the sky was dark. Rey shuddered. She wasn't particularly fond of carnage.

The painting on the right of the fireplace was of a woman. She looked elegant, her hair done up high and decorated with strings of pearls identical to the ones around her neck. Her dress was pink, the scooping neckline edged with lacy trim, as were the ends of its capped sleeves. The skirt of the dress extended out around her waist. Her tiny hands were folded neatly in front of her, and her expression was neutral.

In front of the fireplace was a rectangular coffee table. On it rested a stack of a few books, a cracked oil lamp, and a faded chessboard with no pieces. On the right side of the table were two armchairs, torn up like the chaise and blue in color. Between them was a round table, knocked over and cracked down the middle. A window with curtains drawn was on the wall behind them. The gloominess seemed to be a theme everywhere in the house. In a place where people once gathered to share a good time, not even the happiest of memories could push back the darkness that had swallowed this grand house whole.

Phasma left Rey's side and wandered to the right side of the room. she almost stepped on a broken bust of a man; thankfully, her flashlight had saved her-and her new Louboutins. She carefully stepped over the mess and saw something in the corner. It was a lump, covered by a frayed blanket. 

She squatted down to lift it up, and underneath it was a mess of wood and glass. She stood back up and kicked it with her foot, moving some of the splintered wood and glass shards aside. Buried underneath some of the debris was a simple item: a necklace. Phasma picked it up, and noticed a ribbon was tied to the clasp. On the ribbon was a yellowed piece of paper. It read, in very well-written cursive:

A gift for you from my endeavors.

_A very fancy gift,_ Phasma thought. A large square emerald outlined with tiny diamonds was the center of the necklace. A line of dainty diamonds formed the chain that led to the clasp. Three small, square emeralds were on either side of the chain, evenly spaced. The necklace certainly made a statement, and it had to have been the centerpiece of any outfit. 

Phasma gently put it on, then called, "Rey! How do I look?"

Rey turned from her new spot behind the chaise near an entryway to a small hallway. "Lovely."

"Ha, thanks." Phasma took off the necklace and set it on the mantle during her walk over to Rey. "Sorry I took so long. The unusual decor had me interested."

"Eh, you're fine. I felt the same." Rey shrugged. She poked her head out into the hallway, then pointed to the left. "There's a door." She felt dumb saying that to this gorgeous woman. Of course there was a door. Phasma knew; she was smart. Rey hid her disappointment and frustration with herself under bright eyes that looked up to Phasma.

On the walk to the door, Phasma asked, "So, you're a mechanic?"

"Mhm."

"That's pretty cool. Is it hard?"

Rey puckered her lips. "No, not really. I mean, once you know your way around a car, it's easy."

"Not for me," Phasma laughed. "I know my way around a gym, though."

"I guess it's like anything else. Once you understand it and learn about it, you begin to know it better than you know yourself." Rey's sage words hung in the air. Luckily, they were at the closed door. "Shall we?"

"I guess." Phasma turned the doorknob.

Inside was a sink, a tub, and a rack of moth-eaten towels. The wallpaper was hanging off the walls; it was in worse condition than the rest of the house. The tile was filthy and caked with dirt. Above the sink was a spotted mirror, and Rey cringed at her reflection. Two oil lamps were on either side of the mirror. The sink had a golden faucet and knobs, but they were grimy and had lost their splendor.

The claw foot tub was another issue entirely. There were broken oil lamps scattered around it along with various containers. Rey poked one with her shoe, and jumped when a bug scuttled out of it. She blushed when Phasma took her hand. They stepped closer to inspect the tub, and found that the belly of to was entirely rust-colored. Some of the color speckled the sides and even rim, and there were a few dots of it on the wall behind the tub. 

A curtain hung off a rod; obviously it intended to hide the tub from view. There was no point in moving it now since it was so frayed and hung off the rod. The two woman had seen enough of the tiny washroom and headed back out into the hallway.

As they walked to the next room, Rey broke the silence by saying, "This place must have been built before proper indoor plumbing..There must be an outhouse." She internally cringed. Of course Phasma knew that. She scolded herself for her dumb remark.

Phasma nodded as they stepped into an office, going through an open door. "Mhm, yeah. Probably."

 The walls had glass cases full of various trophies. Some were golden or silver cups, others were medals. As they walked around, looking into the cases, they also saw some bizarre things as well. Rey cocked her head when she saw the skull of an animal, and Phasma frowned when she saw the entire skeleton of a turtle or tortoise-shell included. She couldn't tell what it was; she'd have to show Finn and ask him later. Then, next to the skeleton, she saw a plain trophy cup. 

The trophy case walls consisted of normal things mixed with odd items. Rey saw an array of tiny Russian nesting dolls next to another cracked animal skull. A butterfly was encased in glass, the color faded from its wings. This made Phasma particularly sad, seeing life taken like this. This type of butterfly was a monarch, she actually knew that. Even though the colors and patterns were faded, she was able to make out orange and black, and the tell-take patterns a monarch had on its wings. 

Similar to this, Rey saw a tiny pressed flower. It was a black rose. She spent a little time at a flower shop, and she knew these were relatively rare and mostly synthetically colored. The petals were dried and the stem was curled in. She was surprised it hasn't turned to dust yet, given how long it could have been here. It was pretty enough, Rey thought, but something seemed wrong. Something seemed wrong with the entire room. 

Rey drifted to the desk in the center of the room. The top of it was scratched, the leather chair behind it cracked from age. She ran her fingers across the of desk, feeling notches and bumps with the pads of her fingers. Phasma joined her at her side, her presence announced by the click of her shoes. Rey saw a drawer that was slightly open, and she raised an eyebrow. Curious, she pulled it open. 

Knives littered the drawer. Some looked like they were from silverware sets, others looked like they were for gutting fish. One knife looked like a butcher's knife, the blade dull and rusted. Phasma saw a tiny switchblade, and Rey saw why looked like a carving knife. They were all too rusted over to accurately distinguish types, however.

"Phasma.." Rey whispered, reaching out for the other woman's hand. 

Phasma took Rey's clammy hand. "Oh my god.."

A single calligraphy pen was in the drawer among the knives, the nub was crusted over. Rey and Phasma gulped. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy this trash? Follow my tumblr @more-trash-by-trash for more quality garbage, and feel free to hit up my ask box for headcanons or anything regarding any of my fics!

**Author's Note:**

> hit up my ask box at my tumblr, @more-trash-by-trash to give me tips on writing horror. this is my first time! and, if you want to chat about other stuff too. that's cool!!


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